


Let's Be More Than What We Are; Our Hearts Know What's Best

by r_j_l



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: 2nd chapter smutty but with a dose of teasing and lording, 3rd chapter will be smut with some other stuff and fluff going on, Declarations Of Love, F/M, Fluff, Getting Back Together, Love Confessions, Marriage Proposal, Romantic Fluff, Set where episodes 5 and 6 didn't happen in the same way., She shows up and he is all about it, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2020-04-16
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:48:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21973114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/r_j_l/pseuds/r_j_l
Summary: She finds him exactly where she thought she would — working his craft in any spare moment he has. She brings with her a broken spear and a heart that still is his if he wants it. It's her heart that brought her here actually, to this moment with him, she trusts it.He's doing the best he can, following her last words to him like a map, everything but the ladies that aren't her bit. Waiting. Hoping that one day she might turn up in front of him like she has every time before, he has plans just in case she doesn't, though.
Relationships: Arya Stark/Gendry Waters
Comments: 27
Kudos: 240





	1. Chapter 1

You must be able to hear the longing in my heart; it repeats your name a thousand times, you've made your mark.

The sound of your name echos for ages in my ears when it's come off my lips.

My heart, it still beats because of you. It's astounding that you understand that feeling too.

We could so easily be more than what we are.

Do you know what we can do to soothe our hearts to rest?

It's love, dear, and our hearts know what's best.

\----

“Come back tomorrow,” he says gruffly, not even looking up from his work.

He’s here. She thought he might be; she could only hope when she heard the steady tang tang tang from the forge that it would be him. It’s surprising how un-lordly he looks, dressed as he is for working in the forge.

“Gendry,” she watches him stop at his name before dropping his work in a bucket to cool and slowly turning to face her.

There is a smile on his face as he looks her sodden form over, up and down once then again. He grabs a cloth and wipes his hands and arms as he walks toward her. “Hello,” his voice softer than she had imagined it would be in this moment.

He’s handsome, even more so than he was in Winterfell only months ago. His hair is growing longer, and he’s not cleanly shaven anymore, the pitiful goatee he was growing when they were younger filled out and accentuating his mouth and jaw perfectly. She just wants to kiss him.

His expression shifts as he notices the spear at her side, the spearhead broken, “What happened to it?” he asks, reaching for the weapon.

She hands it over, a few drops of water falling from the spear. She watches as he de-taches the one half to get a better look. He’s shifted his attitude in seconds, all business suddenly as he looks at the break. She sighs before asking, “Can you fix it?”

“Do you have the bit that broke off?” he says, running his thumb over one of the jagged edges.

She produces the three pieces from her bag, which he takes gently into his palm before heading to one of the nearby workbenches and laying all the pieces together.

She joins him at his side after a moment, as she places the other half of the spear on the table he slows as he turns to look at her again, that smile returning to his lips, “I can fix it, but I’ll need a few hours and a fire hotter than this. Can you stay till mid-day? I was just finishing up for the night.”

“I can stay, there’s no rush... really,” she says, bumping her wet shoulder lightly into him on purpose as she turns away from him, looking around the forge really for the first time to hide the blush that’s risen on her face due to his smile.

\--

His eyes follow her as she surveys the forge, “Where are you off to next?” he asks because he knows no matter how much he hopes and wishes it weren’t true, he knows her and she’s only here for his skills, not for him.

She sighs, thinking before she turns to him again. “Right now, well, I’m hoping you keep a cot of some kind in the forge? I’ve been riding for days, and I need to get out of these wet clothes. Does it ever stop raining?” she asks, looking around the building again before heading to the door nearest to her, a small storage room full of supplies.

He can’t hold in the laugh as she turns back to him, looking disappointed. “If that’s what you want, Arry, it’s yours,” he says, pointing to a door a few yards down from the one she just opened, “As for the rain, well, it always stops eventually.”

Her eyebrow lifts as she looks at him curiously, she walks to the door. Opening it and turning back to him, a smirk on her face after she sees the large old four-poster bed that’s been moved into the tiny room.

After she walks into the room, he allows himself to breathe for what feels like the first time since he turned around at her voice. He needs to get a hold of himself, hells.

“Hot Pie asked me to say hello, he still can’t believe it, you and all this,” she calls out a few moments later, the amusement obvious in her voice.

Thinking of Hot Pie, now the owner of his own inn, makes him smile, “Thank you, for passing on the message, He still pining after the tanner’s daughter?”

How is she always this beautiful he thinks as she appears at the door, ringing out her hair. Now without Needle or her dagger at her hip, her bag missing from her shoulder. “Oh yeah, now he’s married to her, though. Someone gave him some useful advice the last time they were there apparently,” she says pointedly before heading back inside the room.

Useful enough for Hot Pie but not for us, he thinks sadly.

\--

He leaves her in silence for a few minutes. She lays down on the bed, and the second her head hits the soft mattress, she realizes that the bed smells like him.

A boom of thunder rings out, startling her out of her thoughts, making her more aware of his movements in the room beyond her. She listens to him, cleaning and shutting down the forge.

He breaks the silence with a soft knock as he brings her a lit candle and soft cloth and places both on the table near the door, his face now cleaner than it was before.

She gets up and grabs the cloth, and he just watches while she tries to dry her hair. He’s smiling again as he says, “You look good,” and her stomach flips because she can tell he’s sincere.

“I look like a drowned rat,” she says, more harshly than she meant to.

She watches as he nods before turning to leave, interrupting him as he goes, “Gendry, I like your hair better like that,” she stops for a second, feeling a blush rise on her face, “I’ll see you in the morning,” she adds as an afterthought hoping he’ll leave. She’ll have the night to sort out why the hell she just said that and what just happened.

He doesn’t move though, watching her before he says, “Arya, I know you’re tired, but I haven’t eaten yet, and I’d bet you haven’t either, would you like to join me?”

“Alright,” she says, blowing out the candle before she even has time to think if it’s a bad decision or not.

\--

She follows him, and the hairs at the back of his neck stand on end just being in such close proximity.

“Arya?” he asks, puzzled once he sees it, he almost missed it, he's so distracted by her.

She comes around him to look at what he’s pointing at, “Why did you bolt the door?” he asks.

No one is allowed to lock the forge door ever; it’s a fire hazard. He doesn’t even know why a lock is on the door in the first place. When she doesn’t answer, he unlocks it and moves to open the door before she takes hold of his hand.

“Kept imagining so many versions of this moment in my head. I didn’t know how this would play out,” she says softly, but there’s amusement in her voice as if she’s about to laugh.

There's enough light from the cooling forge so that he can still see her. He only can stare at her, waiting for her to continue. She seems momentarily nervous before she says, “Thought we might need the privacy,” so softly.

Desperately wanting to touch her, hold her, but he stops himself. She needs to be the one to start anything. “Arya, why are you really here?” he asks, his voice as soft as hers just was.

Her eyes shine, and the smirk on her lips makes his knees weak, but it’s the moment that she puts her hand on his chest, over his heart, that he allows himself to hope.

“It’s exactly what it looks like,” she begins stepping in closer, “One more try, I’d like to get this right this time, you and me,” she stops for a moment just looking at him before she continues shaking her head, “I never claimed not to love you Gendry, I do, I just couldn’t, not then.”

“Arya I...” he begins to say, but he stops himself, just leaning down to rest his forehead on her own for a minute before shifting and placing a kiss on the same spot.

A flash of lightning and a rumble of thunder causes them to jump, but it only seems to make her want to be closer to him. She takes hold of his shoulder with the hand she doesn’t have over his heart. He can tell she's being as honest and open as possible as she starts to explain, “I had so much left to do, and with my list, I didn’t believe I’d live,” she holds on to him tighter, “You didn’t know then, what I had become. I know Sansa’s told you everything that she knew, don’t bother trying to lie about that.”

He watches as she swallows, trying to get her next words out. He cups her cheek with a mostly clean hand.

It seems to be what she needs as she says, staring into his eyes, “But you know now, and here you are still looking at me the same way you did when you saw me again, when you asked me,” her voice cracks, “You still love me, still want me, even with what I’ve done.”

“You thought I would judge you for what you had to do to survive?” he asks, his heart, breaking at the thought that she would think he’d ever feel different about her, especially over this.

“Arya?” he whispers when she doesn’t respond. He runs his hand through her damp hair in an attempt to be soothing. She’s not looking at him anymore, her eyes looking down at her hand over his heart. She lets go and steps further into him, resting her head against his chest, her clothes wet against his own. She's cool from the rain, a contrast to his warmth. Finally, she nods, and his heart again shatters.

“The way I see it, you’re here in spite of what you went through, not because of it, ” he explains, and he can feel her entire body relax at his words.

He continues stroking her hair; it’s as much for him as it is for her, really. At this point, he just needs to keep that contact between them so he can believe she won’t disappear.

When she does move, it’s only to tilt her head so she can see him. Staring into her eyes as she stares at his makes him feel righted. The iron-grey of her eyes, as familiar as the steel he works. He knows she believes him. It makes him want to tell her more truths.

He can’t help but laugh; as he decides to share this with her, “So long as we’re telling each other the truth, well it’s honestly a bit of a turn on.”

\--

“It’s not the assassin bit, in particular, it’s just,” she watches amused as he tries to explain better, “I’m a blacksmith Arry,” he shrugs, his blush bright even in the low light, “an expert women who knows how to handle a weapon, it shouldn’t be that much of a surprise,” he says with a smile.

She could travel the entire world and never find another better suited to loving her, “Gods, I love you,” she says into the space between them before she pulls him down so she can kiss along his jaw, his goatee is softer than she expected against her lips.

She can feel his smile get even wider as she straightens, “I’m assuming you don’t actually want a lady then?” she asks, teasing him gently because she can right now when he’s smiling like that at her. It makes her so happy seeing that grin.

“I still can’t believe I said that,” he says with a sigh shaking his head.

He crowds her into the wall next to the door, his arms holding her to him. His eyes heavy and deep as he begins to say, “Arya, I want you, only you, just as you are. You wouldn’t be the woman I love anymore if you were stuck in a role that made you miserable. You’d hate and resent me for the rest of our lives if I expected you to become someone you’re not. If you didn’t kill me first.” He brushes a kiss next to her eye, his lips warmer than they ever were in Winterfell.

They keep each other’s gaze for a moment, each of them willing the other to move first. A boom of thunder overhead makes him hold her slightly tighter, but it’s enough of a gesture to make her heart race. His pupils grow to engulf most of the beautiful blue she usually finds there.

“So ask me,” she whispers into the air between them.

“I screwed this up so badly last time. I couldn’t get the words right, you really want me to try again?” he asks, his tone genuinely concerned and honestly wanting her to answer.

Her hand finds one of his where it’s resting on her waist, grabbing it, lacing their fingers together she stares at him; she’s happier than she’s been in such a long time, here with him.

“So try again. You know me better than most, you’ll find them. I knew what you meant, and I wanted to say yes. Gendry, ask me again,” she doesn’t mean for it to sound like a plea, but that’s how it comes out of her mouth, she’s too desperate to say yes she doesn’t care how she said it.

“I’ve been dreaming about getting another chance at this,” he says softly, a smirk rarely seen on his face flashing across his features.

\--

“Have you really?” the amusement he sees in her eyes is so endearing. It’s enough to get him out of his own head, thinking not of the time he asked before but of right now, that she wants him to ask enough that she told him to three times already.

“Would you be my love?” he starts carefully considering her as each word leaves his lips, “Be only yourself with me. I promise to do the same,” her expression makes him brave, her confession that she had wanted to say yes is making this infinitely easier this time. He breathes in deep, “Would you marry me? Be my family,” he asks, watching as her eyes hone in on his lips.

Pulling away as she begins to lean in, shaking his head, “No, no, you have to say it. You kissed me the last time,” he’s teasing her more than anything else, but it seems she doesn’t mind it at all.

“I love you. There’s nothing I want more than to live a life with you. Yes, Gendry, I’m saying yes,” she pulls him in, clutching at the fabric of his dirty, damp shirt, and he gives himself over to her fully, trusting that she has him, them, just where she likes.

The first time their lips meet in months, and he’s not sure how he managed to spend the past few months without this, without her.

The time they had in Winterfell has run through his thoughts, gods, so many times during their time apart. However, those memories are not nearly as good as having her with him. He doesn’t stand a chance against her and the little noises she makes as she shifts against his front, causing him to moan deeply into the kiss. He nips her bottom lip just to hear her growl deeply from the back of her throat.

The deep sigh of contentment she lets out as they separate for a moment's air, as she runs her fingers through his longer hair, is impossibly erotic. He knows she’s able to feel him twitch through the fabric that separates them when she deliberately grinds against him.

His hands migrate south from her waist to her hips, urging her closer. She shifts, and suddenly she’s on the tips of her toes, pressed hard between him and the wall of the forge. Her left leg wrapping around his waist as his hands catch her behind her thighs, keeping her upright and as close as they possibly ever could be.

As easy as it is for him to hold her in this position, he wants to let his hands explore her thoroughly. She must be able to sense the coming shift as she wraps her arms around his neck, preparing for him to move them.

Moving them from the wall to the nearest tidy workbench is effortless, or at least it should be, he almost drops her as she rakes her nails down his neck as he bucks into her through their clothes.

It earns him a laugh that pleasantly rings in his ears as he settles her down next to her broken spear.

\--

They slow down after he sets her down. He nuzzles himself into her neck as she lowers her hands to hold onto his. “Any of the smiths in Winterfell could have fixed this,” he says, indicating the spear with a slight movement of his head in its direction.

“I knew you'd want to do it, besides, it hasn't been broken that long," she waits for the questioning look that follows before saying, unable to keep the smile off her face, "I smashed it with a hammer just out of sight of your gates,” she tries to say it as smoothly as possible.

He takes a half step away from her, just to look at her face, he’s stunned, but it seems more impressed and confused than anything, she can hear it in his voice as he asks, “You broke it on purpose?”

She pulls him closer again, and he comes willingly. Nodding her head against him, she begins to blush.

\--

“It’s good; it’ll give me a chance to rework it a bit,” he says, trying to be reassuring, thinking back to the hours it took to create to begin with. He will admit to there being some issues he never had an opportunity to fix, “It could be stronger, was never satisfied with how it came out. It was a rushed job.” he says, his lips a fraction away from hers.

"And whose fault is that?" she says with a snort as she pulls at his shirt.

"In my defense, I was trying to arm two armies, at the same time," he explains even though he knows he doesn't need to, "a single weapon didn’t seem like a priority until you made it one. I am sorry it took so long to deliver."

"I’m not; you shouldn’t be either," she says into his neck. Each kiss she places there after, fuck, the pressure goes straight to his cock.

"Were you in the capital with Jon and Daenerys before you traveled here?" he asks, trying to ignore his need for just a little while longer, just wanting to talk to her as much as possible, it's been too long.

She nods, "And in Winterfell with Sansa and Bran before that. I had things I had to be certain of before I could come here."

\--

She stops to pull him into a kiss that leaves them both breathing heavily, distracted when she puts her hand over his heart again and feels it beating so fast, "Would the Lord of Storms End like to hear the latest gossip from the north?" she can't help but giggle as she says it.

He startles at the title, his bright blue eyes widening as he watches her.

Kissing him again softly before she whispers in his ear, "Apparently, Arya Stark left two months ago on a quest to win back the heart of the man she wishes to marry."

"You never lost it," is his immediate reply, like he needs to make sure she knows that.

Bringing her hands up to cup his cheeks, just needing to hold him as she sees all of him, vulnerable. She nods before saying, "That’s what Jon and Bran said."

That suddenly surprises him, "Your family? I? We were a topic of discussion?" He asks it like he can't even fathom the possibility of it.

"The pack doesn’t keep secrets anymore. They all know where I am, that I was headed here... to you," she says after a moment. "Sansa wouldn't let the subject drop," thinking of the teasing makes her smile, "she told me all about the conversations you had with her after I left. She took to calling you my blacksmith; it was infuriating."

"I like that title better than lord," he says, bringing his hands up to cover her own where they still rest on his cheeks. "It’s the truth, though; I’m yours," he leans in and kisses her softly before he whispers, "your blacksmith," against her lips.

"Gendry," she sighs at his words, his openness.

"And you’re the most beautiful assassin in the world," he says, his lips hovering over her forehead, a bush of his lips near her hairline, that makes her stomach flip in the best way.

How is he so fucking wonderful she thinks, rubbing her thumbs along his cheekbones.

"Knight is more accurate these days, actually," she corrects him softly, bringing their hands down to rest at their sides.

"Ser Brienne knighted me," she explains when he looks at her, clearly wanting to hear the story, "It may have been more to do with returning Jamie Lannister to her than anything. I didn't want it at the time, but it feels right." It does, she feels more like Arya Stark again as a knight than she has in years.

\--

The fact that she even thinks she was knighted because of Jamie Fucking Lannister... no, just no. Thankfully he's here to convince her otherwise. "I’m sure that wasn’t it. You of anyone deserves the honor. Ser Brienne knows what you did," he says, her eyes going wide as he hugs her to him, "You saved everything."

She saved everything and everyone, and he'll spend the rest of his life if he needs to, reminding her how incredible she is. He has the time to it seems. They have time now. Just that thought overwhelms him.

"My... Knight... Ser... Arya," he says, bending down and kissing her lightly on her lips after every word, only allowing her to deepen any of them after he finishes.

He begins to grind himself into her again, leaving her all sorts of breathless. She's breathing hard when they part.

"I’m never going to get used to that," she says between breaths, her exhales against his skin makes his hair stand up and his cock twitch.

"Like I'm going to get used to lord," he thinks she's talking about the title, but he's not sure.

She shrugs, he can feel her smile against his cheek, before she says, "We'll both have to try."

A thought suddenly comes to mind, one he needs the answer to. "What else did you discuss with your family about us? I’m going to be pack soon, do I get to know?" he asks, curious as to how much she told them, Jon in particular.

"You’re already pack. I’ll tell you everything you want to know tomorrow, I promise," she says, leaning her head on his chest and hugging him to her.

"Can’t you tell me tonight?" he asks, holding her and running one hand up and down her spine.

"No, I can’t m‘lord," she says it, her voice low and breathy. He's beginning to like it when she calls him that he thinks as she shifts to look at him again, "we have some important business to attend to," she moves her hand between them and palms him suddenly through the fabric of his pants making him grind and groan. Fuck, she's incredible.

She giggles, leaning in closer to him, just enough so she can kiss him lightly, "We need to consummate our engagement,” her voice as she says it sounds as desperate as he feels.

"That’s not a thing," he says with a laugh as she shifts her hand up, pulling at his shirt before lifting it so he can finish taking it off.

Kissing him again, she pulls away and whispers, "It is for us,” as he trails his lips down her neck, nipping gently at her pulse, making her squirm.

Suddenly she shoves him away, not far just a few feet, and isn't that a familiar part of this he thinks as she works the top four buttons of her shirt open, just enough so she can pull it over her head just leaving her in her still wet wraps.

He's struck dumb by her, unable to move, only breaking out of his thoughts when she hops off the bench and walks forward, a predatory grin on her face. "Do you have some objection?" she asks as she nears him even though she must already know what his answer will be.

"Can’t think of any," he says as she offers him her hand. Taking it in his own is simple; he'll follow wherever she leads. It's unbelievable how much he loves her. How right this feels.

"Here?" he asks, amused when she stops in the dark doorway. She nods, stepping into the darkness, already sure of herself here it seems.

Lingering in the doorway as he thinks before speaking, "I need to lock the door again, light some candles," because he doesn't want them being interrupted, and he really wants to be able to see her, all of her, clearly.

He's about to do just that when he gets hit in the back with something, investigating the cloth on the ground, a smile tugs at his lips. She threw her wraps at him.

In the darkness, he can hear her laughter; it's such a wonderful sound. "I’m going to start without you if you take too long," she says, it's a threat, one she means, he's sure of it.

The thought of her taking care of herself like that is incredibly hot, but he'd much rather be the one to do it for her. He doesn't tell her as much, but by the end of the night, she'll know. He will make sure of that.


	2. Chapter 2

Hold me in the after, stay as close as you can.

There needs to be nothing separating you and me now.

Watch me return to myself from whichever heaven you sent me.

Ask me what you have always wanted to know.

The answers you seek, they’re loose in the glow of our after.

You speak into my skin and make me feel worshipped, a goddess who’s wholly yours.

Love, stay awake, or I’ll kiss you till you stir.

Dear, I need all of you in turn.

\----

“Is this how you imagined it, at least some of the time?” he asks, his tone hopeful. He has his head resting on her thigh. His lips are still incredibly close to her center. She can feel his every breath against her.

In that moment, she can’t help but laugh, shaking his head even closer into her. This has gone infinity better than her more realistic expectations. As for how she imagined it, thinking about it before she answers, a grin plastered to her lips, “Only in the best versions did I ever imagine falling asleep after with your head still between my thighs.”

That makes him laugh as well, only pausing to press kisses against her inner thighs.

As he settles again, she begins to run her fingers through his hair, making him hum with pleasure.

Minutes pass, and a question she wants to ask him washes over her that she just can’t shake even with them being in the position that they’re in.

Clearing her throat, she starts to say, “Why...how are you not angry with me?”

He turns toward her more fully, his eyes opening before he says, “Should I be? Would you prefer it if I was?”

She can only shrug, she’s willing to leave it at that.

What surprises her is the second he licks up her folds, circling her clit once, twice, a third time before replacing his lips with his fingers against her.

Meeting his eyes, she sees his pleading look; he wants to talk about this further. Swallowing she tries to ignore the pleasure as she starts saying , “No, it’s just...” but she is momentarily halted in all thought as he puts more pressure directly on her clit as he leans over to kiss over her scars along her side,

“I hurt you,” she whispers into the air, her eyes rolling back in pleasure. Fuck, this feels amazing.

She can feel him sigh against her skin, “You did, and I was upset for a few days, but love,” that makes her eyes open. She finds him looking at her so intently, “I knew you left for plenty of reasons, only a few of them having to do with me, with all this, it only took me a couple of days to realize,” he kisses each scar he finds before placing another onto each of the worst ones.

“I wasn’t ever angry,” he says softly, nuzzling his nose over them.

That damn mouth of his, she’d curse it if she didn’t love him and how he is making her feel worshipped with each word and kiss. The drag of his face against her skin, making her warm and sensitive in its wake. She’s acutely aware of his movements, against her core, and as he shifts upwards towards her breasts, his hips on either side of her own, keeping her pinned under him.

“What good would anger do between us?” he asks, cupping her cheek as the fingers that were getting her so close slow to almost nothing for just a moment.

As he reaches her chest, his hand leaves her cheek and takes a nipple and pinches while the other is lapped at first before meeting the same treatment with his teeth. His fingers speed up and keep working her, faster and faster with each passing moment she gets closer.

She can’t even comprehend the noises she’s making as he slips one, then two fingers inside of her, crooking them in that way that makes her shake in the sensation. She knows she’s probably pulling his hair too much, but she needs to keep hold of him somehow, as he does his utmost to make her shatter inside her own skin.

He shifts, creating a soothing drag with his tongue around her nipple for a moment before bitting it again and switching, so it is his fingers going round and round slowly enough to drive her out of her mind.

It’s during one such switch when he’s soothing both of her breasts at the same moment that it all becomes too much, and she completely comes apart underneath him.

She doesn’t know how long she’s in a state of complete and utter bliss, but he’s right where he was when she last was aware of him when she returns.

He sounds so smug as he slips his fingers out of her and shifts to whisper in her ear, “Everything wouldn’t be nearly as satisfying,” before bringing his fingers to his lips and sucking them clean.

Before he can shift away from her, she pulls him closer, so he’s on top of her fully. The elbow that had been holding him up over her the whole time relaxing. He smells incredible, a mixture of them together and the lingering metal and smoke from the forge.

She doesn’t even need to see him to know he’s about to speak, so she beats him to it, “Stay here,” all she wants is his weight against her keeping her close to engulfed by him as she recovers, his lips in a perfect position to place kisses all over her face.

Minutes later, as she is being treated to kiss after kiss to her lips, which she lazily returns, she hears his stomach rumble. Neither can help the ensuing laughter.

“Half a loaf of bread,” she points to where it should be on the floor in-between laughs, “in my bag. Stale, dipped in water, it’s not so bad,” she says, shrugging as she tries to explain.

He kisses her deeply when she finishes speaking; she can taste both her and him on his tongue, her clit throbbing as she notices. How can she possibly want him to fill her again this soon?

“My love, you are a savior, that’s what you are,” he says in a surprisingly earnest tone like he actually believes it.

“Do you need anything while I’m up?” he asks, shifting away from her towards the side of the bed. His incredible arse now in full view for her to see.

“I have all I need,” she says, stretching and admiring her view of him, naked, hard, and unselfconscious. But why would he be, he’s just so beautiful, The Smith in human form - her smith.

\--

He’d be hesitant to leave their little room to fetch water for them if he wasn’t sure that she’s still going to be there when he returns, his mind and heart simply won’t let him believe otherwise.

It doesn’t mean that he doesn’t do his tasks as quickly as possible, returning with two cups filled to the brim with fresh water.

Happy to find her now lounging unabashed on top of the bedding and looking very much awake. Two of the five candles he lit have gone out and leave exaggerated shadows across her skin. The sight of her is enough to make him want, desperately.

Passing her both cups earns him a lazy smile from her, as her eyes dart down for a moment, her smile turning into a smirk at what she sees.

Her bag is precisely where she described, he finds the bread wrapped in a brown cloth underneath half damp clothes.

“This isn’t from Hot Pie, is it?” he asks warily after he tries to squeeze the bread, finding it as stale as she said. If it is from Hot Pie’s it would be at least three weeks old.

“That’s been gone for weeks,” she replies with a disappointed sigh, “this is the best the Red Keep’s kitchens could provide.”

\--

She can tell that he’s about to put her bag back and join her again as she remembers, “There’s a peach in there too.” It’s probably very bruised, but they’ve shared less and worse meals in the past. It’s found after a moment; he holds it as if it’s precious.

She watches as he takes her dagger and cuts around the pit, twists to release it, so the two halves are free. He wipes off the blade on what looks like his pants before putting it away.

“Could you sit up for a second?” he asks when he reaches the head of the bed. Still carrying the peach and the bread, she motions for him to place them against her leg so he can join her again easily. She’s confused as he shifts the pillows upright against the headboard. She understands when a few moments later, he manages to slip behind her, a leg on either side of her.

He pulls her back so she can rest against his chest, placing tender kisses along her neck and shoulders, nipping her skin a little every so often. He only stops his attentions when she passes him his cup and a hunk of the bread. She runs her now free hand along his thigh, admiring the muscles beneath.

The sounds he makes as he eats are obscene; he must be exaggerating; he just seems too pleased. It only gets worse when she passes him his half of the peach; he’s acting like it’s the most satisfying food he’s ever eaten.

Unwilling to hold in her laughter, she turns her body into his, her giggles only stopping when as he finishes his peach a drop of juice drips from his lips onto his chin.

Stretching to reach his chin, she licks up the juice with her tongue before kissing him and tasting the peach on his lips, and if she just so happens to brush against his cock, well, he doesn’t seem to mind.

“You licked me,” he says amused once she settles down again.

She hmms in response, but the look of desire in his eyes requires her actually to answer him. “And your point m’lord?” she asks, pulling the pit out of her half of the peach and putting it in his now empty water cup that is still in his hand.

Staring at him while licking her fingers clean of juice apparently makes his mind stop working. Taking a bite before he can speak, he decides to just hold her tightly to him, after nestling his empty cup beside the pillow. One of his hands holding her thigh, the other against her back, every so often two fingers gently side up and down her spine, leaving glorious goosebumps in their wake.

“I love you,” he says as she eats, making her heart pound.

She finishes eating quickly. Getting out of his embrace and leaning over the side of the bed to place both cups on the floor, she can feel him watching her every move; it’s an exhilarating feeling, being wanted by him, him being so obvious about it only makes it better.

Crawling back into his arms, in between his legs, is so simple right now when it’s all she wants.

\--

He runs his thumb over one of the many carved stags on the headboard continuously after she settles again on his lap.

It takes her a minute to notice; she must be full of her own thoughts he thinks as she lifts her head from his chest to look at him

“What are you thinking about?” she asks softly, taking his hand off the wood and running her fingers over his own.

“Everything that’s happened since we last were together,” he confesses easily, so much has happened to them both, he’s sure. He just wants to share and to hear her tales in return.

“Do you know if your sister or Ser Brienne wrote to Selwyn Tarth after I left?” he asks, it’s a question he’s had in the back of his mind for months.

“It’s possible, why?” she asks, shrugging as she takes proper hold of his hand, intertwining her fingers with his.

“He was here to meet me when I first arrived,” he explains, “Knew I was coming, had the forge cleaned for my arrival,” taking his thumb and again running it along her knuckles absentmindedly as he thinks, “Someone must have wrote,” he says, there’s no way he could have known about the forge.

He sees the concern in her eyes, so he explains before she can ask, “He didn’t compare me to any of them too much. I was a person to him. One, he wanted to get to know.”

\--

That information makes her happy; he’d hate it being compared to his family in anything but looks and strength. There are no comparisons besides that to make. He’s an infinitely better person than them.

“How are our other lords? Any in particular that I should know about?” she asks, more curious as to the loyalty of his, their, bannermen than anything else.

She wishes he didn’t sigh so deeply at the question. She can see him choosing his words carefully, each sentence he says gives her less and less information, “They’re mostly just happy to have someone to complain to again I think. I look enough like them that no one had any objections. No one has been too terrible.”

She nods, understanding what he means. He brings a hand to cup her cheek. He looks at her so earnestly.

“I want you to meet them, though. Your opinion matters more than my own in this,” he seems nervous for a second before he asks, ‘You’d be able to tell if any of them are liars, right?” His hand shifts back down to her thigh.

“Of course,” she says, and she can feel him relax slightly beside her, “You’d be foolish if you weren’t concerned, all those new people,” she says, resting her head against his chest and placing kisses to any skin she finds. She can feel his heart beating under his skin with her lips.

He nods in agreement holding her just a bit tighter before he says, “I know. They’ve all been doing this for a lot longer than me. Having Davos here now helps but...” pausing for a moment to sigh, “I’d just like to know who we can trust.”

“We will find that out. I’m not going to leave us vulnerable, love,” she says into his chest.

\--

A third candle flickers out before either of them speak again, just enjoying the quiet, the gentle sound of the rain slowing outside, the constant feeling of their breath against skin.

He’s on his way to sleep when she shakes him gently awake to ask, “Will you spar with me tomorrow? Do you have the time?”

That gets him awake, given what they were just speaking of. He nods his head as a response, before he adds, just so she knows, “I don’t think it will come to blows,” he says, hoping that it will be true.

“I just want to stay sharp,” she says, shifting so she can straddle his left thigh, allowing her a better angle to kiss him, it seems.

He hugs his arms around her waist, keeping her as close as possible to him. Relaxing into the kiss, she hums as he gives her complete control.

“Incredible deadly woman,” he says once she’s brought her arms to rest on his shoulders and is running her hands through his hair and kissing his neck, earning him a beautiful laugh as she pulls away.

“You know the only times I’ve ever watched you spar was when you were showing off with Ser Brienne,” he says, remembering each time so vividly, he’d been hypnotized while watching the display. The way and speed at which she moved was, well, he’d never seen anything like it before.

“We weren’t showing off,” she says with a hint of defiance in her voice, interrupting his memories.

“Sure you weren’t,” he says sarcastically, looking at her and finding her blushing, “I know when you’re practicing and when you’re just putting on a show m’lady.”

The last word leaves his lips, and he instantly regrets it. He’d been so careful not to call her that the entire time.

\--

She feels him tense beside her, and she instantly softens, hiding her smile and kissing that spot where his neck meets his shoulder before she says, “You can still call me that if you like,” into his skin.

“I don’t mind it as much as I pretend to, so long as it’s just you calling me that,” she says, moving so she can look into his eyes.

“And what makes me so special?” he asks sarcastically, the smile on his face is so endearing to her.

“Gendry,” she says, rolling her eyes at the amusement he clearly feels.

“Arya?” he’s asking for something; it takes her a moment to remember what.

Fine, she’ll admit it, she's more amused at his insistence than anything, “I knew you were watching at least two of those times. Happy now?” she asks, already knowing his answer.

He shakes his head, and she watches as his smile grows impossibly larger as he says, “Oh, very much, m’lady,” before he closes the distance between their lips again.


	3. Chapter 3

Please, I need you to keep watching me with that soft look of love in your eyes when you're in my arms.

You take the lead, but you ask me how I want you.

Adoration is not a strong enough word for what I feel for you.

Awe, that is what you inspire within me.

I don't have faith in gods, I have no need of them, for I have faith in you, in us.

You know our love is an aspect of ourselves with which we find direction; it leads us back to each other every time.

No power can stop you and me and our love.

\----

She's resting against him, fingers drawing unknown patterns across his skin, and he couldn't be happier.

Before she arrived like a whirlwind, he'd been having an alright day. Nothing too aggravating had happened, and he made it to the forge to work with his apprentices for a few hours.

But she's a force of nature, it had been less than an hour between her arrival, his proposal, and having her again, his mind still hasn't caught up with the reality of it all.

His heart has, though. He's been so ready for this to happen, for her to appear in front of him, like something he's imagined so many times in his dreams.

When her eyes open, all he sees is the most beautiful grey sky, but then her eyes get heavy, she's thinking of something sad.

"I hate that I hurt you, Gendry. All you ever did was love me and ask me to marry you. I hurt you that night, and I'm sorry," the regret in her voice does more to hurt him than the lingering feelings her refusal still has on him.

"Thank you," he says softly, kissing her forehead, "it did hurt, but you're here, that’s what matters, us being together."

He pauses wondering if now is the right time to bring this up or not, his decision is made for him when she takes hold of his jaw, silently asking what he's thinking about, "I've never wanted to leave you, or be left behind, even in that dammed cave, I know it's been years, but we've never talked about it. I am very sorry."

She nods in understanding, "Promise me that when we hurt each other, we'll talk about it sooner, we won't let it linger," she says shifting to hold her hand over his heart.

"Of course," he says in reply, covering her hand with his own.

How has he not already said this to her he thinks as he says, "I missed you so much," it's confessed in a whisper, he's not just talking about the last few months, but the years he thought she was gone. Somehow he thinks she understands.

She opens her mouth to speak but decides against it the next moment, leaning in instead to kiss him lightly on his forehead then down to his lips. "I missed you," she says, and he knows that they both meant the same thing.

A fourth candle flickers out, and their eyes meet. He can see her thoughts turning behind her eyes as she leans in to press her lips to his again shadows darker than ever in the one light they have left.

He slows his thumb where it's making small circles on her knee as she shifts, bringing her left thigh over his right, so she's straddling him, her hand slowly shifting south, playing with the hair there as she becomes more and more overt in her attentions.

She takes his hands and brings them to take hold of her hips, but it's only when her eyes shift from being sweet and sleepy to a slow but obvious want that makes him feel like prey beneath her does he feel the need to speak again.

"Direwolves hunt stags," he says nervously, looking away from her for a second to glance at one of the deer carved into the headboard.

Her right eyebrow lifts at his words. A small huff of a laugh leaves her nose as she licks her palm and takes hold of him when she takes her next breath.

"I don't see a stag; there's just a bull right in front of me," she says, pumping him once, twice, a third-time confidently before circling his tip with her thumb, spreading his wetness around the top of him.

"They must hunt those too," he stutters out, it takes him a second to get his mouth to work, words beyond him as she continues to circle the tip of him, switching to the edge of her nail every so often.

Just when he thinks she has no response to his rather pitiful reply, she leans in, scrapes his ear with the edge of her teeth lightly, then whispers directly in his ear, "Only because they're absolutely delicious." Her little laugh, there's nothing better, he loves it dearly. The second, after all this, when she lightly bites the edge of his ear, probably just to prove her point, makes him realize how much power she has at this moment.

It's startling how alright he is with that thought.

She's absolutely loving how he's reacting to her not so subtle seduction he can tell, a permanent smirk on her lips, the chance of laughter charging every moment between them.

"Let me try something," she waits for him to nod before she says, "could you keep your hands where they are for a bit?"

He can do that. He'd let her do whatever she likes with him, so long as she keeps looking at him so tenderly, he can't get enough of her eyes on him.

She hasn't shifted in what feels like ages, still slowly stroking him till he's past fully hard for her, desperate for something more than just her teasing. What is she waiting for? She usually doesn't have this much patience, although they've never made it this many times in one night before he realizes.

"Arya, Arya, please," he says in a rush at that thought as he finds his breath. Something changes in her eyes, a look of satisfaction, she was waiting for him to beg. She's a dream; she has to be, but at the same time, he knows she's real.

He hasn't thought to move his hands from where she placed them, but he just can't keep himself from running a finger through her folds just to see if she's ready for him. The sharp breath of air she takes in at his touch is such a lovely sound; her slick is more than enough.

He circles her clit a near dozen times in an effort to make her move before bringing his hand back to her hip.

She presses her forehead against his, as she shifts a fraction forward her hand placing him, so he's nestled in between her folds. "Gendry. Tell me what you'd like; maybe you'll get it," she says softly as she shifts her hips, moving herself along the length of him, creating the most beautiful slick friction between them.

Her words make his mouth go dry, but he does manage a moan that he at least thinks comes out sounding like, "Fuck, Arya."

Her arms wrap around his neck, her fingers playing with the ends of his hair near his neck as she giggles and kisses the hollow of his throat. The kisses are bookended with tiny nips of teeth against his skin, what a wolf she is he thinks as she says into his skin, her giggles returning, "Hmmm, Fuck Arya, yes that's a general idea but how exactly do you want me?"

"In you, Arya, please, just like this, I just want to watch you move," is his desperate response as one of her hands come to hold on to his shoulder. She places the lightest sweetest kiss to his lips as she takes hold of him and looks into his eyes as she positions herself right above him.

The moment she starts to take him in, he keeps staring at her eyes, watching as they begin to flutter closed as she sinks down on him, agonizingly slowly making the most satisfying noises as she does. He isn't much better, only lasting moments longer as his own eyes close as he feels her stretch and settle around him.

After a minute of them just not moving, having her clench down around him every so often, she leans her head against his own and kisses his cheek. "Touch me, but don't move me too much," she says breathlessly, his eyes open slowly at her command. He wouldn't dream of jostling her too much, especially knowing that she shouldn't need to adjust to him, so he knows she's just savoring the feeling of having him inside her. Which honestly does more for his ego than he'd care to admit.

Given the permission, the first thing he does is hug her closer to him, chest to chest. He just needs her close, needs to feel her skin. His heart can't take her being apart from him.

Once he's sure she's going to stay that close, he brings his hands up to cradle her face, moving her so he can press soft kisses across her face, forehead first, then the corner of each of her still-shut eyes. Center to the tip of her nose, down to the edge of her lips all in quick succession.

Her hands find his when he finishes; she kisses each of his palms before their fingers lace together, bringing them down to the bed as she opens her eyes again. "Stay still," she says as she starts to move, rocking slowly for a bit and grinding on him so wonderfully.

It takes her a minute, but she does find a rhythm that works for them both. She sinks onto him, gripping him as if her life depends on it, her soft moans meeting in the air with his increasing gasps as she gets him closer and closer to that edge.

"What would you say if I told you not to cum until I say you can?" she asks, her tone serious as she works hard to speak while keeping her pace.

Her words alone almost undo him, and it's a long moment before he's able to grunt out, "I'll try," from between his teeth. Freeing his right hand from hers, he slides it up and over her thigh, his fingers blindly searching for where they're joined and, more importantly, to her clit. Her expression when he first touches it, he wants to make her feel that wonderful forever he thinks as he continues to circle it in the way he has noticed that she likes best.

It's only half a minute before she moves to take his hand away. He's about to ask why when he was sure she was getting close when she brings his hand up and kisses his damp fingertips in thanks before bringing them to his mouth so he can clean them of her wetness, the taste of her causing him to lose his thoughts.

"Relax, let me," she says, putting both his hands on her hips again. She leans in enough to press her lips softly to his cheek, "Just watch, that's what you asked for," she says, as her own fingers reach down to mirror his previous movements against her clit. Beads of sweat causing the hair around her face to plaster itself against her skin as she moves.

He doesn't remember saying he wants only to watch, but it sounds marvelous.

"Ar..." he begins to say but is stopped as her lips find his. He's more than happy to continue as she pleases.

"Try to hold on for me," she says, breaking the kiss and picking up the pace again, then adding, almost as an afterthought, "I want to taste you bull."

Now she is just trying to be cruel, "Arry..." he starts to say, but he is silenced again by her lips against his. Determined this time not to be distracted he pulls away to see the confusion on her face, "I'm not going to last if you keep talking like that," he cautions, but it only causes her to throw her unoccupied arm around his shoulder, but more importantly it causes her to laugh, a deep laugh, one he can feel from where they're joined.

"Gendry, just tell me...," she starts to say but has to stop when her breath hitches in a gasp, "when you're close."

He nods, but then he sees that her eyes have closed once again, so he kisses her as an answer as her breathing shifts to quick gasps that seem to never end.

"Gendry," she whispers not half a minute later as she continues rolling on at her pace, at this point she's just using his body to get her over that edge he knows she's been teetering on for a bit. To hear his name from her lips, she has to know what this is doing to him, to his heart.

"Gendry," she breathes, then again, "Gen...," he can feel her gripping him even more intensely not just at her core, the hand she has resting on his shoulder digging into him with her nails as she crashes over that edge so forcefully that he feels all of it with her, while somehow managing not to get there himself.

She's panting and shaking as she comes down, her forehead resting against his own. Only when her breathing slows does he shift her at all so he can see her properly.

She's lit from behind like this, and with what little he can see, he knows that her eyes are closed, a post bliss flush appearing on her skin, covering her face, neck, and entire chest. Kissing the tops of her breasts before he blows cool air against her skin, he hears a soft sigh escape from her lips followed by a few deep breaths that go silent when he presses his lips to hers. He ends the kiss quickly, but their lips linger close until she rests her forehead again against his, noses bumping in the process.

"Arya..." he manages to whisper what feels like ages later. Neither of them have moved in that time, but it hasn't stopped him from staying on that edge the entire time it takes her to somewhat recover.

"You're close," she says knowingly as she opens her eyes.

"Hmmm," he hums, staring into her bright eyes.

It's the moment that she slides off of him that overwhelms him; he can't control it. She'd been so warm, and the cool air is such a contrast. "I'm, I'm going to..." he mutters as he can feel the pressure ease. A streak lands on his stomach before she can manage to get down on the bed and take him in her mouth.

He can feel her smile around him as she catches the rest on her tongue. He's sure it can't be too much after the two times earlier, but it does seem that she intends to ring him dry of whatever his body has left to give.

That is his last thought before his body gives in to the pleasure of it all.

\--

Watching him when he's like this is as good as being the one getting the attention she thinks while she swallows, as his breathing begins to slow.

"That good, huh?" she asks smugly, kissing the tip of him, as he slowly rakes his fingers absentmindedly through her hair. She shifts to one side and smiles into his hip when he continues, without response.

"Fucking incredible," he says a while later, voice rough as he smiles, "You didn't have to, though." his words making her look up at him. The blissful look is still on his face; it can't be anything too serious.

"Which bit?" she asks, as a thought of what he means comes to her mind.

He struggles to find the words it seems; it takes him a second to get them out of his mouth, "The end bit."

Silly man, worrying about things that aren't even an issue. "Didn't you enjoy it?" she asks, looking up at him through her eyelashes, already knowing his answer.

He shakes his head slowly, taking his fingers out of her hair before he says, "It's not a question of if I enjoyed it, that's not what I meant, I just, you're not obligated to..."

"Obligated?" she says with a laugh, kissing his hip and smelling them both on his skin before she says, "Gendry, don't you love how I taste?" Before he has a chance to respond, she slides a hand down, taking two fingers into herself to gather some of her wetness and causing his eyes to shift over her body so he can watch.

She watches him swallow before he says, "Yes, you know I do," with a grin, a look of hunger suddenly appearing in his eyes.

She can't help being distracted for a moment, slipping her now wet fingers out of her as she shifts her other hand to rest near the smear that's still on his stomach.

"Believe me when I say I feel the same about you, about this," she says, tapping her fingers on his stomach but keeping the eye contact between them.

She can see when he completely processes what she's saying. "Oh," he says, his tone almost surprised, a blush rising on his face.

"Here's what I think," she says, kissing his hip once more as she slips her fingers into herself again, "this is here because of you, love. You helped put it there, so as far as I'm concerned, you get to do with it as you please," she's trying to explain this as well as she can, "Just so long as we both enjoy it. You alright with that?" She waits for him to nod in agreement before taking her fingers and lifting them up towards him, he gets the idea, bending forward to take them into his mouth.

Only once he's finished does she continue, taking clean fingers from his mouth, smiling at his blissful expression, she places both of her hands near the smear on his stomach. "And we both know this is here because I made you feel very extremely good, good enough that you lose your mind, so this, even though it's from you, is mine," she collects it with her thumb, saying, "I love how it tastes on my tongue," before placing it in her mouth and licking it clean, never breaking eye contact with him a low groan coming from his throat.

\--

She slows suddenly, looking him over, a smirk appearing on her lips, she gets down again this time on her back. Pressing her cheek into his thigh, she settles down, closing her eyes.

He reaches out a hand towards her, and even with her eyes closed, she knows what he is looking for, her hand finding his. He traces a finger over each of her own, back and front. Refamiliarizing himself with each of the callouses and scars she has, the wounds that she had when he last did this have healed, a few of them adding themselves to her skin permanently, others have appeared that he doesn't know at all.

"Which part was best for you?" he asks, now circling the soft underside of her wrist with his thumb, catching the slowing beat of her pulse in the process.

"Seeing you hold on because I wanted you to," she says softly, opening her eyes to look at him, her eyes silently asking him the same question.

"You said my name when you finished that time. I like it when you say my name," he admits, feeling his cheeks blush at the confession.

She takes his hand properly in her own and brings it down to her lips, kissing the back of his palm.

"Gendry, would you lie down with me?” she asks, her bright eyes once again full of want as she lets go of his hand.

Softly laughing, he's deliriously happy right now just being here with her. "What are you planning now, love? I'm afraid I don't have much left in me. I'll need to sleep soon," he says, it's the truth, but honestly, all he wants right now is to fall asleep next to her.

\--

"Just to sleep. That's all I wanted too," she assures him, shifting a bit to get under the covers, arranging a pillow, so there's enough room on it still if he wants to share.

When he begins to move away from her and leaves her alone in bed for a moment, she doesn't understand what's happening, not until he walks over to the only remaining candle. Before he can pick it up to blow it out, she interrupts him, "It'll go out soon enough, don't you think?" she wants to see him for as long as she can.

He turns towards her, a small nod before he returns to the side of the bed, pulling down his side of the covers and slipping in facing her, close enough that there's no room dividing them.

She gathers him in her arms, her lips pressing a kiss to his forehead, the sound that he releases from his throat at that is one of satisfaction and love and is somehow both calming and erotic as her breasts brush against his skin.

"What's that noise about?" she asks, teasing him more than anything else.

"You're here," he says, his voice so sincere it startles her with the emotion behind it.

She slides out the arm she had under him and settles it at the spot where his neck meets his shoulder for a few moments before he takes her hand and kisses her palm, placing it back over his heart once he's finished. He then wraps an arm around her waist, holding her to him like he's afraid to let go.

She can feel the rapid beat of his heart, she's not sure if it is concerning or not so she tilts his head up with her free hand and when she can see the emotion in his eyes she asks, "Are you alright?" softly into the air between them.

He nods his head, yes, but there is more behind his eyes that he's not saying.

"Tell me," she asks, desperate to protect him from whatever thoughts are in his mind.

His mouth opens like he’s about to speak, but it closes just as quickly. He sighs loosening the hold he has around her waist, he takes two fingers and places them on her neck, checking her pulse, his breathing slows down exponentially as she watches him count each beat. After a minute he shifts a bit upward, so their eyes align before he starts, "I know you're really here but I dream…” he shakes his head as he stops talking, but their eyes catch, and she silently pleads for him to continue, "It's silly,” he says, clearly knowing by now that she’s not going to let this be.

She rests her hand on the side of his face, caressing his cheek, her eyes silently telling him just how much she cares. His voice is so small as he gives in, "It's just that I dream of you being here, and when I wake up, you’re gone."

The feeling he's describing, she knows it intimately, just as much he does, she fears. They only had a few nights in Winterfell together. She could count them on both hands, and while that helped re-establish the connection between them, this stems from their time before that. Being family for each other years ago, she remembers it so intensely the safety and peace it brought her when she was young, feelings it still causes for her.

Taking his hand off her neck, she replaces his arm around her before she wraps her own along his back holding on just as tightly it's then that she leans in to kiss him, once chastely on his lips, then the tip of his nose, and finally to the spot between his eyes, making him go cross-eyed. "I’m tired of waking up without you too, Gendry. I'll be here in the morning," she watches him stare at her so intensely, like her words are all he needs to sustain him, "I'm not going to disappear. I'll be here every morning for the rest of our lives if we have the choice."

We have the choice she almost adds, but he's holding her close suddenly, dragging his lips across the skin of her neck, peppering her with tiny kisses as he goes. His goatee, tickling her along the way.

Unable to keep in a giggle at a certain point, he pulls away, but she follows, kissing the side of his mouth before admitting softly, "It tickles, but I like it."

She can feel the smile that appears on his face against her lips. He lets himself rest against her for a moment before he must remember what he was going to do before he made her laugh.

He hums a song she's surprised she still remembers, only two lines. She's struck by the intimacy it creates.

"Despite what the song says, feather beds are nice though, don't you think?" she asks somewhat sarcastically, but it does cause him to laugh, a loud true belly laugh the kind warms her to her toes.

She can feel him nod against her as he begins to relax beside her, opening her eyes to find his slipping closed.

The fingers of his hand that he has around her waist loosen against her, dancing randomly against her lower back, it's almost enough to tickle.

She's almost sure he's going to succeed in lulling her to sleep until his movements just stop, her eyes opening to meet his.

She silently asks him what's on his mind, ruffling the front of his hair a bit as he begins moving his fingers along her back again.

\--

"Arya, you should know, the Tarlys were here last month," he says quickly, the words spilling from him, he has to tell her what their visit made him realize.

"I know," she says calmly, but it takes him by surprise.

"How..." he starts, she can't know, but just to be sure she understands, 'I'm not talking about Sam, his mother and sister were here, they were trying to..." he words only stop when she's leaned in to kiss him quiet.

"Gendry, I spent a week in the capital," she says as she ends the kiss, laying down on her back, and he follows, his hand pinned under her. Shifting a leg across her own, settling himself half on top of her, he still doesn't understand what she's saying.

A smirk forms on her lips before she says, "Apparently, Lord Baratheon was the most inhospitable and ill-humored host they've ever stayed with, at least that is what Gilly said."

Now everything is clear; Lady Tarly must have written to Sam while she was here.

Her soft laughter interrupts his thoughts, "I can't imagine what they're talking about, you've been nothing but attentive to me," she says, reaching up to run a hand through his hair. Flatting it down a bit before her hand comes down, cupping the side of his face, her thumb tracing his cheekbone.

"It wasn't my idea," he says, kissing the pad of her thumb when it reaches his lips. She takes her hand back as he shifts himself closer. He instantly misses her hand being there, that is until his lips meet with the skin of her shoulder.

"I never imagined that it was," she says softly, clearly understanding everything he's attempting to say. He can barely see her face like this, but he knows that she's smiling, she understands and knows how he feels.

"What was she like?" she asks softly, interrupting his thoughts.

"She was too nice," he says, attempting to make her laugh.

\--

"Too nice?" she asks skeptically, how can someone be too nice?

He just nods, "And her kill list was painfully lacking," she can hear the laughter in his voice now, "Really, just ants and the odd spider, I imagine. Too proper."

"Gendry," she says more softly than she meant to, but there is still a warning in her tone; she just wants him to be serious for a moment.

He must hear it, she can feel him calming as he begins to say, "I hid in the forge for most of their visit," well that explains some of what Gilly said she thinks as he continues, "She understood why though. The first chance I had to speak to her somewhat privately I told her that I was already in love with someone else, she took it very well, I don't know why she didn't tell her mother though?" That startles her, how he just did that so simply, he continues to surprise her.

"Gendry, you told her all that?" she asks, and he nods. "You didn't even know if I'd come back to you," she says, stunned by the man at her side.

"That didn't matter, Arya," he says, shifting a bit and pressing his lips to hers, "She deserved to know the truth of the situation. I love you. Nothing would cause me to love anyone else, even you suggesting that I would eventually, I knew I wouldn't. She said it was romantic, how sure I was. I'm not sure about that though, all I did was believe in us, that we would be fine." It is romantic she realizes suddenly consumed at that thought.

He pauses, holding her closer as he says, an amused tone sneaking into his voice, "I had some time to think about it; I don't believe, I can't believe that you ever meant it either, that you wanted me to find someone else."

A wave of jealousy courses through her at that thought, feeling foolish for letting him go all those months ago. With a hand to his chest, she pushes him onto his back and climbs on top of him. "You're right about that," she says, leaning forward, resting entirely on top of him, "I'm done trying to convince myself that you deserve someone better than me. Just thinking about you with someone else..."

He interrupts her, pulling her closer and kissing her thoroughly, when they part his voice is rough as he says reassuringly, "I'm here, love, I'm with you."

\--

"With you," she repeats after him slowly nodding her head against him then she tilts her head suddenly, so she's looking at him, "You're a joy to love, and I've never..." she pauses he can tell that she's blushing as she says almost too softly for him to hear, "I've never wanted anyone else."

A piece of himself suspected that was true, but to hear it from her, it's still so surprising.

"I think I only know how to love you," he says, it's his own confession. Other people, maybe he doesn't try enough but, while he can get along with people, they don't make much sense to him, what they’re focused on, he doesn’t understand it. Arya, though, it was never a difficulty relating to and understanding her. He’s curiously sure of her, he knows what it takes to make her smile, the best ways to make her laugh, he understands how she's comfortable being loved and cared for, and he only wants to do that with her. No one else could be as natural of a partner to him as she is.

She closes her eyes and rests her lips against the side of his face for what seems like an eternity before she takes a hand and slides her calloused fingers along his jaw, over his chin, then tracing his goatee. She drags a finger over his lips three times before moving over to his cheeks, gliding up his nose. She closes his eyes before she circles around them, tickling him with his own eyelashes as goosebumps rise on his back and shoulders before he finally gives in to his curiosity and asks with a laugh, "What are you doing?" as she moves up further to brush over his eyebrows.

"I’m looking at you," she says with a pleased sigh as if that's an obvious explanation as to why her fingers are tracing the worry lines that are on his forehead. "You’re just so beautiful," she says, a single finger gliding along the edge of his hairline.

He can feel himself blush at her words, his stomach twisting almost in embarrassment, he is sure that he's red from the tips of his ears to his neck. "No one's ever said that to me before," he admits, still caught up in her words, trying to understand how they make him feel.

"The whole world must be blind then," she says, burrowing her face into his shoulder, and settling down fully on top of him again, she must be smelling his skin she breathes in so deeply.

"Arry, do you love me because you think I'm beautiful?" he asks, his voice soft and teasing, curious as to what she'll say next.

"It's only a small factor," she says into his skin, "It's not the only reason I love you; hells, it's not even the only reason I'm attracted to you," she says tracing her fingers up his arms and down the sides of his torso, ending their journey, gently holding onto his ass.

He knows what she's talking about; he feels the same way for her, "I understand that," he says, bringing an arm around her and slowly brushing his fingertips up and down along her spine.

"Arya, I love that it's you loving every bit of me," he admits, suddenly overwhelmed by her presence and the love he can feel she has for him.

He can feel her smile against his skin before she takes his free hand and laces their fingers together. Her other hand reaching up to hold onto the pillow as she settles down further on top of him. He can feel her body relaxing bit by bit.

After what must be five minutes of just resting in comfortable silence, he realizes he has more to tell her, things she should know, "Davos knows about you, about us. He could tell something was wrong before they arrived. I, he guessed at some of it, but I told him the rest," he explains; still a little uncertain if telling Davos was worth the fatherly teasing the man has given him since.

"Gendry, will he be happy to see me in the morning?" she asks, her head still resting against him. She doesn't shift at all as she speaks, and surprisingly he can hear a hint of nervousness in her voice.

Goodness, if only she knew how excited Davos will be when they show up to breakfast in the morning, "Yes, he likes you, thinks you're impressive and frankly a little scary," he says, it's the truth, but he's also trying to minimize her expectations so she'll be surprised in the morning.

"He thinks I'm scary?" she asks amused and almost pleased for a moment before she shifts to look into his eyes, her expression full of concern, "I don't scare you, do I?"

That's an interesting question really because he's learned that for him, there were at least for a time, two types of scared. The kind that he feels when he is genuinely frightened. Then there's the type of satisfying tightness that he feels in his chest and stomach when she does something that leaves him in awe of her, that feeling used to make him scared, but it doesn't anymore, he welcomes that feeling now.

"I've been scared for you, but never of you," he says honestly, but she doesn't seem convinced, "You've never given me a reason to be," he explains further, and while he's sure she hears him she looks like the thought that he might find her scary is too upsetting.

She shakes her head before she starts to say, "But I..."

"Never," he says, interrupting her before she can spiral, she stills at his insistence, reading him for any hint of a lie. She obviously doesn't find any, and judging by the smile on her face as she stretches so she can place a kiss against his lips, she's clearly pleased.

It's minutes later when the last candle flickers and then snuffs itself out; she must clearly think that the conversation is over for the evening, shifting halfway off of him, pressing a kiss to his cheek, and tossing an arm over his chest.

He can feel her jump, somehow not expecting him to say, "You know when I told Davos what happened when I proposed, he demanded more details. He pointed out that you never actually said that you didn't love me. It made me realize that l maybe..." he pauses bringing a hand up to cup the side of her cheek, he can tell that she's smiling, "maybe I had a reason to hope. Your sister had implied the same thing with much less of the story, but to hear it from someone so far removed from the situation was different."

She nuzzles into his hand like a cat for a moment, then kisses his palm. "Davos, he suggested that if I didn't hear from you in six more months that I should write to you and propose again," he says after it seems that she's relaxed again beside him.

\--

"Were you going to do that?" she asks, hearing something in his voice like he wasn't convinced it was the best idea.

"No, I wasn't," he says, and she's momentarily disappointed until he adds, "I was going to travel to wherever you were and try again in person."

Oh well, that's a superior idea to the original, isn't it? "A much more romantic gesture," she says, her voice almost shocked with how resolute and sure he sounded as he said it.

"Exactly," he says, taking her hand that's on his chest and intertwining their fingers.

She can picture two ways of how him coming to propose again would go; both would result in another proposal just that it would be her asking this time; she wouldn't be able to stop herself. She can imagine it, how she'd ask, how it would feel, and what he'd look like afterward. She won't get to experience it; she suddenly realizes.

"It's one of the reasons I love you," she says with a yawn into the air between them, "those romantic instincts."

"What are the other reasons?" he asks with a laugh, he sounds tired too.

"We'd be up for the rest of the night if I start listing them now," she says softly, stretching her back and trying to find the most comfortable position to sleep in.

"Oh, it's that long a list?" he asks, pressing a kiss against the top of her head, she can tell he's teasing her, but she's enjoying it right now.

"It certainly is," she says, agreeing with him, it's the truth though, she's likely to realize one new thing she loves about him for every minute she spends with him.

"Just tell me one thing then," he says softly, amusement still in his voice, she knows she could pick any random reason and he'd be satisfied.

It takes her a moment to decide on what she'll tell him, but when something from earlier in the conversation comes to her mind, the decision is made for her. "I love how much you believe in us and in me," she says with so much emotion in her voice because she's saying this out loud, "no one has ever... no one has ever believed in me as much as you do."

The words are out of her mouth before she even processes them. It's the truth, though. She knows that it's a rare thing to have the man you love possess such deep faith in you and to feel the same for him in return. Shifting a bit to look at him as best she can, he's breathing slowly, just patiently waiting for her to continue.

"Gendry, will you marry me?" she asks, her voice cracking with emotion as the question tumbles out of her mouth. The need to ask him overwhelming, almost too much for her to handle. She couldn't have stopped herself from asking even if she had wanted to.

He nods, seemingly an unconscious reaction before he asks, "But didn't I, aren't we already..." Fuck, why is he so distractingly charming when he's confused?

"We are, I just needed to ask you myself at least once," she says in a soothing voice, pressing kisses up his neck in the moments it takes for him to process what she just admitted.

She can feel the laughter about to erupt from him; his laughter is catching; apparently, she can't help but join in. The instant he starts to calm, he shifts his lips against hers, taking all the control she has left and leading the kiss along as he wishes.

She's about to break the kiss to ask if this is because of the way she responded the first time he proposed when he pulls back first, taking her hand and kissing each of her knuckles.

When he does place her hand over his heart, she can feel the steady beat.

"Arya, I will marry you," he says, his voice heavy, he slides his hand into her hair as he whispers, "Yes, Arya, forever, yes," against her lips.

People need to talk about this feeling more, she thinks, as she pulls him in for a kiss.

The man she'll spend the rest of her life loving just told her forever, and she's overwhelmed with how happy at the prospect of spending forever with him she is. This feeling is nothing like she thought it would be when she was little. When she had imagined marriage back then, she thought it would scare her, that it would only be an obligation. No one ever said love could transform it into something that feels so freeing and that it could be wholly enjoyable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all for this one I think.
> 
> Kudos and Comments are greatly appreciated.


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